


A Jealous Quarrel

by drunkonsmut



Series: The Doctor and the Professor [16]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Chilton lovin', Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1542947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkonsmut/pseuds/drunkonsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick Chilton confronts you for spending, what he considers to be, too much time and attention on a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jimhoppersbeard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimhoppersbeard/gifts).



> This was just suppose to be a short thing, a bit of fighting then lots of lovin' but drama sneaked in.

You’d been alone at the dining table seeping your morning coffee when a frowning Frederick came in for breakfast, still wearing his robe. It was Friday but you both had it off from work. He had been rather distant last night and hadn’t said much this morning. Come to think about it, he has been distant since you got back from a work trip to Chicago on Monday.

You had spent fuor days up there in a cycle of conferences and had bumped into David Carrera, your old graduate school roommate. You spent everyday day with him, commenting and poking fun at the conferences, going out to eat, talking about current research and life, and remembering old times. You told him about Frederick and he told you about his fiancée in New York. Thought you hadn’t lost contact with him over the years, it had been an age since you last saw him in person.

You remember telling Frederick on the phone about how glad you were to see David again, how you invited him back to Baltimore because you wanted to introduce him to some colleagues that could help him start up an art education program. You remember how his face hardened when he saw David exiting the arrival gate with you when he came to pick you up at the airport.  His face when you told him you were having dinner with David that night, since he was leaving tomorrow. His refusal to join you. All the little comments he had made during the last three days that you had let slide, because to you it was just David. Silly David who once destroyed your stove in college and defended you from arachnids.

Looking at Frederick now moving around the kitchen, you didn’t think possible one could look so upset buttering toast but there he was.  ‘Oh no’ you thought.

“Okay, Frederick. What is it?” you ask him, serious.

“Nothing.” He walked to the table and placed his plate of toast on the surface, on the spot opposite you, but he didn’t sit down.  

“It can’t be nothing when you’ve hardly spoken to me this week.” you tell him.

“It’s not like you’ve had much time for me when David is in town. Can’t add to conversation either, when all you talk about is him.” His eyes were angry and the pitch of accusation underlined his word.

That tone and those words were causing anger to spread in your chest. You took a deep breath; you weren’t going to start this fight if you could help it. “Don’t bring David into this. You knew I was going to be working with him this week. He is just –“

“Just what?” he interrupts you. “Just your friend, whose side you haven’t left for more than a week since you met in Chicago?”

“Yes, just my friend.”  You reply slowly and pointedly, looking him in the eye trying to will him to drop the subject and calm down.

He looked at you, silent and unmoving. He was still standing before the table, his right hand clutching the handle of his cane so hard his knuckles were turning white. All these feelings of jealousy and insecurity he had been try to suppress since you told him about bumping into this David had just morphed into a senseless anger that was bursting the seams of his self-control. He had tried to quell these emotions and not have his heart fall to the bottom of his stomach every time you told him with whom you had spent your day. He had been trying to remind himself that you were with him, and that was what mattered. Then he remembers David by your side at the airport; tall, lean and classically handsome. He was cordial and considerate as well but Frederick wasn’t about to admit that. He hated seeing the chemistry you had with him, you had been roommates for two years you said. How was he to know what happened during those two years? How was he to know what happened during those four days in Chicago that had you clinging to your _friend_?  Those days away from him and close to another man, he was left with the memory of your laughter on the phone and the lingering thought that you would one day realize you could do better and leave him. He realized he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again like he was before.

He felt weak, uncertain, and when he felt like that his immediate respond was hostility. Before he could even stop himself he blurted out accusingly, "I don’t believe you."

He sees your eyes widen in anger as you slowly reply in the same tone, "You don’t believe what?"

 And all his frustrations just comes forth, "I don’t believe that it was just a mere coincidence that you met in him in Chicago. What with you clinging to his every word and going after him."

"Going after him?" you parroted incredulously.

But he continued, "How am I to know that all you did was remember old times, alone in a hotel room? And what type of old times? Has he-"

You stand up abruptly, the chair you were sitting on scratching the floor loudly as it was pushed back. "Stop right there, Frederick. How dare you insinuate something like that? You know there isn’t anything between David and I. I haven’t given you reason not to trust me. You-"

"You haven’t given me reason to! You're always flirting, how can I trust you completely when you're sauntering into people's graces all the time?"

Your face hardened. 'It's with you I always flirting with, foolish man.'

It took everything in you to not yell _What the hell is wrong with you?_. "How dare you? Don’t blame me for your insecurities and your inability to distinguish cordiality from flirtation." You reply darkly.

"My insecurities?" he replies haughtily.  He takes a breath to continue, and you just know that whatever he is about to say is going to hurt. You lift a hand to stop him and give him a hard look, " I'm done. I’m not going to take this. This is absolutely ridiculous." You turn away, walking toward the foyer where you left your purse and car keys last night. Thanking the universe that you had decided to dress before breakfast, you were so mad you would have left in your nightgown. "Stop!" you hear him call from the kitchen, "We’re not finished with this.  What are you doing?" He follows behind you.

"We are finished." You’re grabbing your purse and keys. "I’m leaving, that’s what I’m doing."  You were definitely not going to talk to him when he was like this.

You didn’t look back as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door. Frederick was left standing there in the foyer, his angry glare dropped the moment you said you were leaving. He grabs his cane with both hands, twisting his hands against the sleek surface and hurls it against the floor. "Fuck!" He tries to ignore the knot that forms in his throat and the sudden burning feeling behind his eyes.

You had five missed calls from him by the time you were meeting David for dinner, you thought of cancelling since you certainly weren’t going to be good company tonight but you didn’t want to be alone either.  You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to will your headache away. You were angry and hurt, so upset that after all this time Frederick would slash at you with such accusations. You thought you made it obvious that you care for him deeply. For goodness’ sake, saying he didn’t trust you when you had exchanged house keys two weeks ago.

Just as you were about to exit your car to walk to the bistro, your phone beeps with a text message. It’s from Frederick.

_I’m sorry.  
Can we talk?_

You sigh, contemplate if you should answer it or not.  You know of his penchant for self-pity, you imagine him sitting in his living room alone. Your anger flares and you decide not to reply.

Two hours later, Frederick’s phone vibrates on the coffee table. He reaches for it quickly, he hasn’t let it out of reach after you left. He has berated himself all day for how stupid he acted this morning. He called you desperately to your cellphone, each time you didn’t answer his chest became heavier. The dread grew in his mind that everything was indeed finished because of his immature fit. He only has to recall how you regarded him that morning after he accused you, you'd never looked at him like that. It was so different from how you look at him. hurt so much. He dreaded when the moment would arrive and you won’t be there to tease him over dinner, won’t drive to his house after work to kiss him and ask him about his day, that he would once again have no one genuinely smile at him with such warmth, no one to simply be himself with.

To say he didn't trust you when it was such a lie. How can he be so childish?

The text was just two words: _Not now._

He replies immediately. _When?_

Ten minutes later the phone vibrates again.

_I don’t know._

Frederick screws his eyes shut, drops his head in his hands and curses himself for the thousandth time that day.


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a transition chapter, but we're closer to the fun!

He didn’t really have to go to work that Saturday, but he wasn’t about to spend all day in his house alone and he might as well get over some paperwork. He arrived at the crack of dawn, dark circles around his eyes and hair off its usual immaculate grooming. He scared the crap out of an unsuspecting guardsman coming to work so early, threw in a remark for their incompetence because why the hell not.

Frederick worked until early afternoon, after one the older administrative assistants brought him a coffee and gave him a motherly look, “You’re going to make a mess of the filing in your state and then make my work harder. Go home to sleep, doctor.”

He huffed and puffed in annoyance as Dorothy left his office. He didn’t want to, but his eyes were dry, his headache wasn’t alleviating and it’s not like he was concentrating much on work anyways. He just kept going over the last week and his stupidity. You hadn’t called or texted or given any other signs of existence.

Not twenty minutes after he got back home, there was someone calling at the door. Frederick felt his heart at that moment speed up, maybe it was you. He started to make his way to the foyer, you had keys but maybe after yesterday you thought it better to check first. As he reaches for the door he's prepared to shower you with apologizes and beg an opportunity to demonstrate his love.

It’s just the post man with a small package. “Dr. Chilton?”

Frederick couldn’t help releasing a gushing sigh, “Yes. What is it?”

“Got this for you. Just sign here.” The post man replies, eyeing him critically and giving him the electronic pad to write on.

Frederick signs quickly and reaches for the box when the old man speaks up, “Is it about the pretty lady?” Frederick fixes him with a glare and remembers that you, in your sometimes annoying cordiality, had stricken a sort of friendly acquaintance with the nosy old man the times he had come to make deliveries. He once found you two talking about dogs on the curb in front of the house.

“How-I don’t see how anything in my life is any of your business.”

The old man hums and eyes his tense figure, “She’s a good girl, just give her some time to breathe. Good day, Dr. Chilton.”

Frederick is left glaring at the back of the post man as he walks to his van to continue his job. He closes the front door and sighs, so this was his life now. Evisceration, pushing away happiness, being bossed by his own staff, getting vague relationship advice from post office workers. He looks over the package and walks to the living room, he opens it. It was that limited edition of one of your favorite books that you had raved about when you read about its publication. He knew you hadn’t bought it yet and he wanted to gift you something you would really like. He checks his phone again, nothing.

He looks around the room and spies a couple of your things. You were comfortable and content with him, slowly bringing your lives together.  He feels desperate, just wants to talk to you and apologize for his uncalled for behavior and make it up to you some way. He wants to go to you, see you in your apartment, but his face is probably the last thing you want to see. 

Meanwhile, you had just returned from taking David to the airport. You feel terrible about dinner last night, you spent it spilling your guts out and drinking. You may have cried a little about your frustration with Frederick’s anxieties and your feelings about him, but you are blaming it on the white wine. David brushed off your apologies, laughing and saying it was like being 25 again. You didn’t find it so funny.

David had listened patiently; he was a man with more experience on the long-term relationship department than you had ever wished for yourself. He advised you while taking the last cup of wine away from you, “Don’t go back to him angry, wait until you’ve cooled down. I’m sure he’s realized his mistake by now. For you to be this upset, this guy really has you smitten. From what I’ve seen of him, I'm not sure why. I’m trusting your taste for the sweet ones here. Just talk to him about how you feel with this and all will be fine. He’s a psychiatrist, I’m sure he is dying to talk to you and open to fix this. I think he just needs some reassurance.”

As he exited your car, he tried to cheer you. “Chin up, my dear. I would like to see you both at my wedding.” You rolled your eyes, said goodbye and wished him the best with his fiancée. Back at your apartment, you prepare coffee and look apprehensively at the mountain of papers on your kitchen table. You weren’t angry anymore but you feel emotionally drained, so you bury yourself in work. You consider for a moment calling Frederick, but decide to correct some overdue essays. You want to feel a little more leveled-headed when you talk to him.

After not bearing to read another half-assed essay on Italian Futurism, you try to find a theory book to complement your notes for next week's lectures. Half an hour and the disorganization of your bookshelves later, you remember you left it at Frederick’s. You need it for Monday.

“Oh, damn it. Just get over it.” You decide to pick it up tomorrow morning and have your talk with Frederick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback and suggestions are always welcome! Thank you for reading.


	3. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reconciliation.

You felt like you were breaking in, but you had the keys and it felt rude to ring the bell on a Sunday morning. Thought you shouldn't even worry about being rude to him after that fight. You stood on the front steps for 15 minutes debating over it like an idiot. It was 10:00 and Frederick was sure to be up, being an early-bird. You feel a wave of nerves as you cross the foyer and walk into the living room. No sign of him yet. You see your theory book on the arm rest of the couch and walk toward it. Another book and a brown box on the coffee table catch your attention. You set your purse down and grab the book, gasping a little. You had been lusting after this edition for weeks but hadn’t gotten around to actually buying.

“I thought you would like having it.” You turn your head toward the landing of the stairs to look at him. You hadn’t heard him come down; he was wearing a plain, black cotton shirt and grey pajama pants. He didn’t have his cane. He looked tired and wary.

“Thank you, Frederick” you tell him softly turning back to the book, tracing its leather cover briefly and gathering a deep breath. You feel a heavy ache in your chest. You look back at him and see him fumbling with his hands, looking for works.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said any those things. I know – I know I’m not much and understand if you want to leave, but-”

“Frederick, come here” you interrupt him before he continues down that line. You move to sit on the sofa and beckon him with a hand to do the same. He does so slowly, his eyes uncertain and sad, watching you for signs of rejection and half expecting you leave. You sit together, with almost a foot of distance between you. 

“You hurt me with your accusations, Frederick.”  You see him drops his gaze to the floor.  “I don’t think I warranted any of it.”

“You didn’t.  I fed my doubts with no reason. I know you would never do that.” His voice shook and he took a breath before looking at you, “Please, forgive me…”

You scoot closer to him until your knees almost touch, reach for one of his hands and intertwine your fingers. You hear him take a sharp breath. “Frederick, there shouldn’t be doubts. You’re the only one I want. If there is something that makes you uncomfortable or worries you, please talk to me. Don’t let it eat you up.” You raise your other hand to cup his cheek, his raises one of his to press against. You feel the roughness of his stubble on your palm.

He turns his face slightly to place a kiss on your palm, right under your thumb. You shiver at the soft touch, at the ghost of his breath as he repeats:  “I’m sorry.”

You lean in to force him to look at you, “You’re forgiven if you promise to come to me if something worries you.”

He releases a breath. “I promise” he whispers.

“Then you’re forgiven, darling.”

His eyes look into yours, searching almost for confirmation. You come closer until your bodies are touching and lean in to place a soft kiss in his lips. Both his hands leave yours to cradle your face as he returns the kiss just as gently.

You both pull away at the same time. You grin and tell him, “I love you, you silly man. It’s not like I cook for just anybody.”

He laughs a breathless laugh and gives you one of those rare astounding grins of his, full of happiness. You giggle as he starts to kiss your cheeks and lips, “I..I-I love you, too.” He responds, bright eyed and face flushed.

You lean in for a slow, deep kiss. Your hands grip his shirt to pull him closer, his arms reach around your waist and shoulders to pull you to him. Your lips part against his and you lick his bottom lip, you feel him tremble and sigh as he opens his mouth to kiss you breathless. The kiss soon turns desperate and passionate; one of his hands cradles the back of your head as he starts to maneuver you to lean fully on the back rest of the couch and moves to straddle your lap. You part out of breath, resting your foreheads against one another’s.

“I love you” he repeats as he starts undoing the buttons of your blouse. You hands reach beneath his shirt to massage his sides, you reach to peck his lips. He bends his back and scoots toward your knees to trail kisses on your jaw and neck, licking a path up to nip at your right earlobe before returning down your neck to do the same of the left side. He has you panting softly, releasing little moans every time his tongue touches your sensitive skin. He pulls your blouse and bra straps off your shoulder to lower your bra and massage your breast. He rubs his palms against your nipples, you throw you head back and moan his name. This exposes your throat to his incessant kisses. You want to touch more of him, but he moves off to kneel on the floor between your legs. He slides his hands under you short skirt to palm your hips and bring you closer to the edge of the sofa. You feel his hands pulling at your panties. You lift a little to help him and he has them off you, along with your flats, in a second. His hands reach for your waist to pull you forward. He kisses down your chest to pay worship to your breast, he kisses and nips and sucks.  You feel hot and flushed, both your hands in his hair, you whimper every time he softly bites one of your nipples, by now over sensitive and hard from all his attention. When he pulls away, he reaches up to kiss your panting mouth.

He sits back on his knees, pulls your hips closer still and bends down to kiss the inside of your thighs. You lean back, moan and close your eyes as you feel his fingers brush over you and part your folds. One of his hands tightens its hold on your hip and you almost shout his name as his tongue starts to lap at your clit. You open your eyes and one of your hands shoots to run your finger through his hair, firmly holding on. He moans against you at the pressure. You tighten your hold and pull his head closer. He moans again, eyes fluttering shot. You feel his fingers slowly enter you,  you clench around them and moan. Frederick falls into pleasuring you, working his fingers and focusing on your clit, sucking and licking at it, as he feels you tense. That wonderful pressure is building up in your stomach, Frederick’s mouth and fingers getting you tighter, higher. “Oh god, Frederick!” You start to arch your back, both hands now tightening their hold on his hair and you release a gasping shout as you come. He lets you ride it out against his mouth, his eyes drinking your pleasure.

You relax your hands and lay back, slowly returning to the present from your orgasm. Your body feeling weightless. Catching your breath, you look at Frederick kneeling between your legs. He’s waiting for you; his back straight, chest heaving, lips wet, his hands firmly massaging the top of your thighs, his eyes as hungry as you’ve ever seen them.

You sit up and grab his face to kiss him. You both moan into it, you taste yourself on his lips. You part slightly and look at him, your hair falling around your faces.

“Take your shirt off.”

As he reaches back to yank it off, you finish slipping out of your blouse and take off your bra. You slide off the sofa into his lap, your skirt bunching up around your waist. You feel his hard cock straining against his pants, you rub against it earning from him a couple of those throaty moans you’ve come to adore. You pull your arms around him, caressing the skin of his back. You turn your head to place fleeting kisses on his neck. His hands come up to fondle your ass. He squeezes your buttcheeks and pulls you closer, rubbing his cock against you. You both moan at the sensation.

“Fuck me, Frederick.” You command softly into his ear. You hear the desperate groan and feel the gripping fingers, and he is gently lowering you to the floor parallel to the sofa. Once he has you settled, he throws an arm out to push the coffee table away. He bends over you to kiss your lips as your hands reach down his hips to pull at his pants. He reaches to help you. Once out of his remaining clothe, he is leaning on his hands, looking at you as you direct him to your entrance. He starts to push in. Your eyes flutter close, you bite your lip. Frederick moans the feel and sight of you. You legs tighten around his waist as you feel him deep and thick, enjoying the sensation of fullness. He drops his face against your neck as he gathers you close and starts thrusting in and out. He starts to pick up speed, your nails scratch his back. His breathy moans in your ear fueling your passion as you feel the buildup of another orgasm.  

“Harder.”

He complies and both your moans become louder. Soon he’s pounding into you, his thrusts erratic as he nears his peak. You hold unto his shoulders, you reach up to bite the side of his neck. He gasps your name and comes, his frantic thrusts teasing your clit and triggering your orgasm.

You remain there on the floor for a while, catching you breath, enjoying to pleasant weight of Frederick over your body. Feeling enough strength in his arms, Chilton lifts himself off you and rolls to the side. You lay side by side in silence, listening to your breaths even out. You turn to look at him and find him staring back, smiling softly. You let out a chuckle and swat him in the ribs with a hand, “That was pretty excellent.”

He grabs your offending hand, brushes your knuckles with his lips and smiles a little smug, “I dare say.”

The moment is interrupted by his growling stomach and his face flushes with embarrassment.  

You laugh, “Well, you speak for both! I’m starving.”

He chuckles, “We could get some takeout from Kostas’, but there’s no way I’m moving yet.”

You _tsk_ him playfully and point out, “You’re obsessed with their vegan wraps.”  You roll toward him, putting your chest on his to reach for the phone still in your purse on the coffee table.

He wraps his arms around you and sighs contently as you kiss him before dialing your favorite Greek place in town. Everything in that moment feeling where it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all in enjoy it! Feedback and suggestions are always welcome. Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope I got the characterization as believable as possible. Writing dialogue is not my forte, so comments, suggestions and feedback are encouraged. Thank you for reading!
> 
> And never fear, for the reconciliation and smut is near!


End file.
